Red and Dead
by Georg Liebhaus
Summary: Three men arrive to New Austin from the Russian Empire. Obsessed with left ideas, they start to forge America the way Marx and Engels would like to see it. Dealing with the American West, they become sure that it's the best place for growing Communist seeds. After establishing their Party, New Austin and West Elizabeth immerse into a real Civil War.
1. Arrival to the Frontier

**Chapter I. Arrival at the Frontier**

That day of early spring of 1909 nobody in Armadillo had paid attention to a carridge that entered the town early in the morning. It was rickety and made of rough wood, that creaked all the time. A sad-looking horse pulled it dully in the direction of the town's main street. It drove over the rails, making a loud noise and after passing a little bit further it finally stopped near the saloon. The driver jumped down from the carridge. He adjusted his dirty clothings and then yelled ''arrived!'' to the passengers.

Three men, pale and skinny descended to the ground. One, a small guy with a round face and a barb approached to the driver. He payed him 16 dollars and thanked him for the drive. Meanwhile, the two other guys took down the bags and sacks from the carridge. They all looked very tired, but anyhow they tried to look strong and healthy.

Alex. Abe. C'mon. We have to find a room, he commanded.

Shlomo, but it's a saloon. Not an hotel…

In America you can find a room here as well, Abe.

He took two enormous trunks and went to the saloon. Alex and Abe followed him. They entered the wooden building and stopped in the center of the room. Almost half a hundred eyes gazed at them. A total silence established it's reign. In front of the entry was sitting a group of men, covered with shit, sweat and a stinky smell of alcohol. Probably thugs. In the end of the room, near the stairs stood a piano, but no one was playing it at the moment.

Shlomo made a deep-drawn sigh and courageousely stepped forward. He approached the bar desk and looked at the barman. The people were still looking at them. Shlomo breathed with nervouseness. What if people could hear his Jewish accent? What if they were the same as in Russia? Everyone had a gun. Shlomo has become nervous for the first time since they had left the harbour of Odessa.

The barman, a rugged faced man with large cheek-bones and short cut black hair looked grinned and finally spoke.

Dewey Greenwood for your service. What'ye want in here folks?

Heh…good d-day…sir…I am Shlomo and these are Alex and Abe.- he indicated them with his hand.- We want to rent a room.

Greenwood twisted his mouth.

Well. I'll check on my book then. – he turned his back to them and started to check a big book that had been lying under the picture of a naked woman with a spectacular arse.

While the bartender was turning pages, Shlomo looked from behind the shoulder at the people and realized that they were not interested in them so much already. He could finally calm down. Shlomo stared with more attention to the audience in the saloon and made a conclusion that the American West was a place of armed males. There was no woman in the saloon.

The bartender came back. Shlomo looked at him with hope.

I am sorry gentlemen. All the rooms are occupied at the moment.

Shlomo turned pale, scared and angry.

So, are they occupied for a long time?

No, he smiled. An English guy from above – he indicated the ''above'', said that he was going to Chuparosa the next day. When he's away you can occupy his room.

Sir, but where can I spend the night then? – Shlomo asked.

At Coot's chapel.

Chapel? Shlomo was surprised. Were they going to sleep in a church? Shlomo was a Jew. Though he didn't read the Torah and followed kashrut that stricktly neither, he knew from his mother's lips that he was not allowed to enter any other worship place except the sinagogue.

What is it?

It's a run down church with a cemetry. There are always people livin' there.

Well…-Shlomo stood thoughtful. Though it seemed to be the only option, he didn't want to break up with his Jewish identity. It took him a while to deal with that.

Suddenly, Alex asked in a row English:

Where we buy to eat?

Greenwood gazed at him with smile.

At the grocery store, of course. It's right in front of the saloon. Just cross the street.

Well, thank you, I guess, Mr. Greenwood. We'll go to the Coot's chapel. But tomorrow we come back and you give us a room. Deal?

Sure. The chapel is not far away. Just follow the road you came with and then to the right.

Shlomo lifted his two large trunks and directed to the exit. Abe and Alex followed him. As soon as they'd touched the dangling shutters, Greenwood said loudly: «And buy yourself the hats, boys. Unless you don't wanna be freaks here». Shlomo nodded in approval. They left the saloon and stopped near the post office.

The weather was hot. Almost fourty degrees Celcius. Going almost a kilometer through a steppe loaded like mules would have been a suicide. Abe sat at the porch and straightened his legs. Alex was looking at the end of the street, where a sheriff's office and some homes were situated. Shlomo decided that the two of them needed a rest. He took out a little money he had in the pocket. 12 dollars 45 cents.

Hey, guys. I'll go to the grocery store and buy some food for us. You two stay here and watch for our luggage, Shlomo said and was up to go.

I'll go with ya, Abe said and stood up.

Why?

Dont'ya remember the food you'd bought when we were in Gibraltar. I don't wanna have a stomachache again…

Ok. Alex, you stay here.

Alex nodded.

They both went to the grocery store. It was made of wood as well and was all heaped with boxes, barrils and different containers. When they entered, they saw a great variety of goods: meat, tools, animal skins, and even coguar forefoots… Shlomo and Abe went to the counter amazed. The shopkeeper, a middle-aged man with snow-white hair and mustache greeted them. "Herbert Moon's establishment welcomes you".

Nice day to you, sir, Shlomo greeted.

How can I help you? – the shopkeeper adjusted his white round glasses.

We need some food, sir.

Very well, there are fresh chickens, dried beaf, porc… - he suddenly stopped talking and stared with both of his blue eyes at them. – What's your name by the way? Are you new at the town? Never seen ya before.

Yes. We have arrived half an hour ago. My name is Shlomo Klein and this is Abe Rabbin. – Shlomo extended his hand to Herbert Moon.

In a matter of a second, a Winchester carbine appeared from behind the counter and was now looking right in Shlomos forehead, ready to blow out his brains. The kind face of Herbert Moon has changed to a fierce grimace of a serial killer.

You, damn Jewish bastards now get out of my store, or I'll make a fine wide hole in your fucking heads. – Moon spoke through his teeth.

Shlomo was frightened to death. Abe stood silent and all tensed, trying to keep the situation under control. They made a step back. Moon's fierce eyes were looking through the foresight at them.

Get the fuck out of my store, you Jewish bitches. I won't repeat.- he lifted abruptly the carbine.

Ok. We go.- Shlomo said.

They slowly went away. Shlomo's fears have justified themselves: even there in America, there were people, who hated Jews. They approached to Alex. He gazed at them with a surprise in his eyes. Shlomo looked sad.

What happened? – Alex wondered.

The sonofabitch is an anti-Semite. Won't sell us anything. - Abe said in a rough voice.

Pointed his fucking gun at us, Shlomo added.

Alex stood up.

I can buy what we need. I am not a Jew though.

I don't want to buy anything from him. He's the same as these Romanian bastards, who killed my father during the pogrom.

Alex understood Shlomo, but if they didn't buy something to eat they would have to live almost a day without food. They were tired as hell and needed to recuperate themselves. So, they had to forget about their ethical disgust towards the shopkeeper and go buy something.

OK. Take the money Alex. But I am not sure that he will allow you to buy something in his store not being a WASP.

Don't ya worry. There is no fortress that a Russian couldn't take over.

You say so, Shlomo said and handed him seven bucks and some coins. Try to buy kosher.

Alex laughed, making Shlomo and Abe angry. He was probably going to buy some pork.

Alex went to the grocery store, leaving his friends to watch for the luggage. Alex was a pale young Russian with blue eyes, chestnut short hair and beautiful European face. He was from an aristocratic Russian family and was probably the best-educated person at the place. He was sure that he would be able to handle anything.

He entered the store and looked at the counter. Herbert Moon was cleaning the goods from dust.

Nice to see you, mister, he greeted the shopkeeper.

Moon lifted his head and gazed at Alex. He stood a while watching him directly in the face, just like if he was scanning him for Jewry. After having checked Alex's phenotype, he concluded for himself that Alex wasn't a Jew.

Hi, he greeted reluctantly.

I would like to buy some ham, potatoes and butter.

What's your name, son? Moon asked.

Alexander.

Last name? Moon didn't even looked at him.

Brunnow.

Are you Jewish?

Nope. Russian.

Good. Because the Jews won't be tolerated in my establishment.

And that's very good of you. The Jews drink Christian babies' blood…

Herbert Moon smiled. In all these years he finally found a person who would understand him. And they talked. Talked a lot. About the Jews, the Brits, the Government, the Chinese, the Chili-eaters and many other bad things that happened to the United States of America. After half an hour of a discussion, Moon and Alex became very good friends, and Moon even made him a discount.

When Alex came out with goods, Abe and Shlomo were pleasantly surprised. There was finally food to eat. They took their luggage and went to the Coot's chapel to wait for the following morning and have a good dinner.

The road was difficult. They wore the huge trunks under the burning sun. The sweat ran down from their faces. When they arrived to the destination, they barely could stand on their legs. They fall on their trunks and bags and closed their eyes. The enchanting darkness and cold of the church touched their tired bodies.

Finally in America, Shlomo said with a smile on his face.

Yup, Alex consented.

Aha, Abe sustained.

[From _The illustrated encyclopedy of the Bolshevique Party of America; vol.1/ Commune Press/ Liberty City, 1963 563p. p.12]_

The founders of the BPA were three immigrants from Russian Empire: Shlomo Klein, Abraham Rabbin, and Alexander Brunnow. Klein was born in 1889 in a poor Jewish family near Odessa, a Russian city on the shore of the Black Sea. Klein's native language was Yiddish. He was a talented kid, though he had almost no education. Klein passed only three classes of local Heder (Jewish religious school). Klein lost his mother in the early childhood and had to live with his aunt, who abandoned Russia in 1896, leaving the seven years old Klein on his own. His father was killed during the Pogrom of 1906. Klein left Russia in 1908 with the friend of his Abraham Rabbin.

Not much is known about Rabbin. He was an orphan and barely any documents are left, concerning his early biography.

Alexander Brunnow (baron von Brunnow) was a total difference to his comrades. Born in a rich aristocratic family in Odessa, he was a son of a prosperous Russian railway magnate. He had a perfect education. He dominated besides Russian both German and French perfectly. English for him was difficult though he studied it very hard. Alexander Brunnow had serious contradictions with his family because of his difficult character. Since his early days he dreamt of seeing the World and take part in adventures. In 1908 he decided to leave Russia and to settle in America. He got acquainted with Klein and Rabbin during the Pogrom of 1906 in Odessa. The Brunnow family hid their Jewish neighbors in their mansion.


	2. Conversation in the Chapel

**Chapter II. Conversation in the chapel**

A fire illuminated smoothly the brick walls of the church and reflected the shades of four men sitting around the fireplace. A tea was boiling in the kettle, hanged on a wooden tripod. Armadillo's night was cool and millions of stars were looking from the sky. A tiny cloud hid the moon from being seen by the people.

Klein, Rabbin and Brunnow were sitting around the fire and listening to a guy whose name was Morris Snead. He was a blond haired man with brown eyes and long face. He used to squat in Coot's Chapel all the time he travelled between Armadillo and MacFarlane's ranch. Snead knew a lot about New Austin and Klein thought that that could be much of help for them.

Klein managed to develop a good conversation with him and started to ask him questions about everything.

[From _The Diaries 1909-1911; Salomon Klein; Commune Press; Blackwater, 1953 p.39_]

_25 May 1909 Coot's Chapel_

_Morris Snead gave me a great help in the comprehension of the local life. I inquired him till the late night about the things I needed to know: jobs, guns, people, economy, geography…_

_Snead told me that there was plenty of job if you knew how to shoot. Hunting, though difficult, is a great thing. You kill a bear in West Elizabeth and sell it in Armadillo for 25 bucks. Castors are also very valuable. _

_Also you can hunt the criminals. You can get up to 150 bucks for delivering one alive to the sheriff's office._

_You can look for gold as well. Though, not all the maps are correct, if you find it, you'll probably become a rich man._

_The guns are an essential part of the local life. Snead said that aside from the fine revolvers, we should purchase carbines as well. He recommended me the Winchester repeater. Said it was quiet enough for self-defense and hunting. (maybe I'll buy myself one like a supplement weapon)_

_People here are ok. But anyhow we should be careful. There are plenty of bandits, gunslingers; chili-eaters can also be dangerous. He also told me about local rogues._

_If you see a stopped equipage and a woman asking to save her from bandits, just get the hell out of there as soon as you can. If you think too much, they'll shoot ya. If you start to shoot, you'll join these folks (he indicated to the cemetery near the chapel). You can pay of course, but that would be stupid, cuz you wont save the woman: she's with them anyway._

_When I asked him about dangerous places, he took out his map and started to pin with his finger:_

_Fort Mercer. Occupied by the Mexican thugs._

_Twin Rocks. Walton's gang is there._

_Tumbleweed. Abandonned and overrun by the gangs._

_Gapooth Bridge. The Miners are there. _

_He also mentioned Pike's Basin that was overrun by the Boulard bastards._

_And where's Solomon's Folly situated, I asked him._

_Oh, that's not far from Armadillo. You follow the railroad in direction of Benedict Pass. Just watch for a turn to the right. There will be an old barn. _

_Then, he asked me why I needed it. I told him that we were travellers._


	3. Meeting our man

**Chapter III. Meeting our Man**

The next morning Klein and Rabbin took the entire luggage and went to the saloon to occupy the room, Dewey Greenwood had promised to them. Meanwhile, Brunnow ran to the train station to make a telephone call to the Blackwater Police Department to inform the necessary person about their arrival to Armadillo.

There was no problem with the room. Greenwood even helped them to deliver their luggage to the second floor. That time, Klein saw the women. Nearly ten prostitutes sat on the couches laughing or smoking pipes. While Klein showed a grimace of disgust, Rabbin looked pleased.

Brunnow turned back after an hour. He entered the room and, putting his leg on a stool, he informed his comrades about the situation.

- Well, guys. I've talked to Mr. Fordham. He'll be at the place at seven PM. If we take a train we won't have to take a coach. The train leaves at 18.15. I've checked everything.

**- **Nice, Shlomo said. We'll have time to clean ourselves up.

**-** Yeah, where can we take a bath?

As they've started to talk about it, they realized how disgusting they smelt.

I will go ask Greenwood, Alex said, removing his leg from the stool.

Ok. Abe and me, we'll relax then.

Alex nodded and went away. He crossed the upper floor's passage and after descending from the stares he approached quickly to the bartender, who was serving a drink at the moment.

Hey, Mr. Greenwood. Is there any place where we could take a bath? Alex asked.

Well, in a river, I guess…, he said smiling.

And what about something closer?

Well, I have my own bathroom. But it will cost you something.

Fifty bucks is ok, huh? For three of us, I mean.

Greenwood thought a while. He served a whiskey for another guy and then looked at Alex.

75 bucks and you got it.

Ok, Mr. Greenwood, when Alex started talking, Greenwood smiled; I guess we'll go to the river. It will cost us less anyway.

Greenwood's face changed immediately. Alex has almost gone back to the room, when Greenwood yelled to him.

Hey, son! Ok. Fifty is ok. I'll do it for ya.

Alex lent over the handrails of the second floor and thanked Greenwood.

"You're welcome, son of a whore"- Greenwood murmured through his teeth.

In almost three hours, the bath was full of hot water. Brunnow, as he was the one who had arranged it all washed himself first. He was pleased to clean himself up, because the last time he had taken a bath was somewhere in Midwest. In Russia he did that twice a day.

While lying in the dirty tub with his knees sticking up from water, he shaved himself with a razor. After he did that, his face became ten years younger. It took him an hour to take a bath, then came Shlomo and started to knock at the door.

At 18.15 they were already sitting in the train, having their bags between the legs and on the knees. They all were gazing at the passing by landschafts. The wagon was almost empty. There were only three of them, a pastor who was reading _Blackwater Ledger_, a Mexican guy, and two other men. Half an hour later, the train arrived at Benedict Point; they barely got their luggage out. It was so damn heavy, that Klein didn't even try to protect the content. He just threw it at the ground from the train and then descended himself.

Benedict Point was a tiny railway station, which had a telegraph office, a sheriff's house, some three small houses and a stable. Also there was installed a mechanism that poured water to the trains that were going further to Gaptooth Ridge or Mexico.

Solomon's Folly was located not far away from the Benedict Point. Somewhere between the fifth and the seventh telegraph poles, there's a turn to the right that Morris Snead had been talking about. And then after two hundred meters, there's the barn. Klein, Rabbin and Brunnow handled with that distance in twenty minutes. When they arrived at the place, Klein stopped the guys and took a dirty piece of paper out of his pocket. Wet of sweat, the printed letters were half-erased, but anyhow readable.

New Austin, Cholla Springs: Solomon's Folly

A semi-destroyed brick house.

Enter the cellar.

Note: _Inform the local agent about your arrival_

Klein looked at the scene that opened in front of his eyes. There was an old barn and, right opposite a semi-destroyed house. Klein immediately noticed a double-horsed vehicle, standing near the brickwall. "Over there"-Klein indicated the place with his finger. They were in the right location. They went to the entrance to the cellar. They descended the stairs and knocked on the door. A sound of moving aside stool was immediately heard behind. In a second, a tall mighty man opened the door and pointed his revolver right in Klein's face. That was the second time he had a barril of a gun right in front of his nose.

Klein, nevertheless, spoke calmly like if nothing has happened.

Agent Shlomo Klein arrived as ordered. Nice to see you, Comrade Fordham.

Nice to see you too, Comrade Klein. The password, please.

Edelweiss.

Nice. Enter please, he said taking away his revolver.

Klein shook hands with Fordham and entered the cellar barely lifting his bags. Fordham helped him and then greeted Rabbin and Brunnow.

Hello, Comrade Rabbin. Pleased to meet you, he shook his dand with a kindly smile.

Shelom, Comrade, Rabbin answered, wearing his bags without any help.

Baron, Fordham inclined himself a bit, like if he was greeting a king or a high aristocracy member.

_Bon soir, Monsieur Fordham_, Brunnow greeted him in French like a noble.

When they all entered and breathed with a dusty air a bit, Klein ordered a password now from Fordham.

Montserrat, he said firmly.

Klein nodded in agreement. They all put their bags on the floor and stood near the table, which was put near the wall. There were three sacks lying on it and on top of every sack there was a hat. Fordham looked above and noticed big chinks between the desks, which could easely reveal their conversation.

We'll better speak Yiddish, guys.

_Farshteyht zich_, Brunnow said.

Fordham checked the time on his golden watch on a chain and decided finally to start.

American Communist Underground was informed about you being sent to New Austin for accomplishing the orders of High Commando. We've been commanded from Moscow to supply you with all the necessary stuff, he indicated at three sacks. We'll supply you with guns, money and medicaments. He then approached to a wooden box and took three revolvers out of it.

They're double-action. Capacity six rounds. Hope you guys know how to use them.

_Zicher_, Brunnow said with a smile.

Glad of ya, Baron, Fordham replied cheerfully.

In these lands your gun is your best friend. I am sure you will use it a lot of times. Just stay out of troubles with the law. Anyhow, if you're in a deep shit, that you can't even pay enough money for your crime, you should run to Mexico and inform us with a telegram.

He than approached again to the wooden box and took out two Henry repeaters and a rifle.

Who's got the best eyesight here? , He asked.

_Ich_, Klein said.

Fordham handed him the rifle. Rabbin and Brunnow were given repeaters. Than, he took an envelope out of his jacket and gave it to Klein.

_Es iz di uvde_, Fordham explained.

_A sheynem dank_, Klein started to open it.

Now, could you please show me what you got? , Fordham indicated the bags.

_Yeh, zicher._

Klein put the envelope away and started to open a bag, which was lying in front of his legs. It took him a while to unbind the knots. When he succeeded, he took out a small book and lifted it to the light. "_The Communist Manifesto" _by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels. He handed it to Mr. Fordham. Than he took out a brochure, that consisted of 30-60 pages. "_Why America should be Communist"._ He gave it to Fordham. Than he took out a leaflet with an eloquent heading "_How Capitalism is going to ruin US" _and also gave it to Fordham. That one looked interested.

There is a load of agitation writings, propaganda pamflets, books for libraries and documents which you know to whom they have to be delivered, Klein said looking at Fordham with a bunch of literature in his hands.

_Dank_, Fordham said, putting the things back into the bag. I guess, our meeting is over, comrades. I have to go back to Blackwater. Your horses are in the barn. Hope ye'll arrive safe. Where do you stand by the way?

At Greenwood's saloon.

Ah. Good place. Just don't hump the local girls. Can get syphilis or a gonorrhea. Or devil knows what else.

Personal experience? Abe asked with a grin.

Knowledge of medicine, Fordham replied coldly.

Then they said goodbye to each other and helped Fordham to load the vehicle with bags. Five minutes later, Fordham left them near the broken house and disappeared behind the rocks. They descended the stairs and appeared again in the cellar. Three sacks with straw hats were still lying on the table. They started to change their clothes.

Brunnow naked himself till the white caleçons and then started to put the clothes out of the sack. There were a fine dark cotton shirt, sailcloth pants, high leather boots and a new poncho made of wool. Also there was a bandolier, which was full of rounds and a black bandana. In three minutes Brunnow stood dressed up, with his revolver in the holster and repeater on the back. He put on the hat and then felt himself great.

Klein and Rabbin had coats instead of a poncho.

They soon went to the barn, took their horses and galloped back to the saloon.

When they were in their room, door closed, Klein opened the envelope and invited Rabbin and Brunnow to read the briefing, which was coded.

_From: The High Commando, Moscow_

_To: Agents Little, Nibbar and Baron_

_Your primary mission in New Austin will be to find a coherent place d'armes for later realization of the punitive operations on local authorities and a hideout for our agents and soldiers. You must also find enough people for the following Operation Asphyxia. Our fellow comrades should have Armadillo and MacFarlane's Ranch under control till the spring of 1910. Please inform your man when you are ready._

_High Commando. Moscow._


End file.
